I am the Law (and the Law is not mocked)
by Kypriotha
Summary: Duke Turomont of Wellam has dedicated his life to upholding the law of the realm and he doesn't appreciate anyone disrespecting it. Written for kitsunerei88 for the Fief Goldenlake 2016 Wishing Tree (prompt: Lawyers, the rule of law, the practice of law, something made for lawyer humour?).


Duke Turomont of Wellam, the Chief Magistrate of the realm of Tortall, stalked down the hallway, legal robe billowing and his clerk almost running to keep up. He entered his law chambers with a bang and walked past the startled clerks in the outer office in what, in a less _dignified_ man, could only be described as a flounce. Noting that the scowl on his face seemed deeper than usual, the clerks wisely kept their heads down and waited for the door to His Grace's private office to slam shut before they pelted the unfortunate trailing clerk with questions.

Inside his office, Duke Turomont flung his robe on a chair and strode around his desk. The _nerve_! The absolute nerve of that – that _boy_! Why, never, _never_ in all his days, in _all_ of Tortall, had he encountered such an _arrogant_ , vain, cocky little _swine_!

Flinging himself into the chair behind his desk, Duke Turomont huffed a great sigh, before leaping to his feet (rather nimbly for his age, it must be said) and began pacing around his office, still too worked up to sit still. With a rueful smile and a moment of self-reflection, even amidst his great agitation, he took a minute to regret that he had lost his temper during the proceedings – though he did think he had done quite well in restraining himself from actually, literally, throwing the book at that unpleasant, nasty excuse for a squire and noble, who swanned around thinking he could treat other people in any manner he pleased, just because they happened to be born in different circumstances to him!

And he, the Chief Magistrate, could only impose a fine (large and imaginative though it may have been) – a _fine_ , for the _inconvenience_ of the loss of service of that poor young lady, just because she was a servant. She was still human, wasn't she? No wonder Squire Keladry looked like she wanted to pound that smug, insidious little worm into sawdust. The law was unjust. Why, he had half a mind to go tell his Majesty so, right this minute!

…but no. That wouldn't do. With a sigh, the Duke collapsed into his desk chair, his energy abruptly abated. It wouldn't do at all, for the Chief Magistrate of the realm to tell the King how to make his laws. His job was interpret and apply the law, not to create it anew. And Duke Turomont of Wellam was a stickler for the law. He knew that made others view him as old and conservative and crusty, but he didn't give a single fig about what they thought. He knew his job and he executed it to the absolute letter of the law. Without consistency in application, without precedents being followed and laws given a clear interpretation, the legal system – and the realm – would be thrown into chaos. And he would not let that happen! Not while he was still the Chief Magistrate.

But there was still a difference in the law that applied to commoners and the law that applied to nobles, despite the attempts of both their Majesties and the more liberal minded nobles at Court (both Gareths, for starters) to implement one fair, consistent rule of law that applied to everyone equally. And some, like that abdominal cretin, that so-called _noble_ , knew that and exploited it for their own ends. Pah! Duke Turomont knew what he'd like to say to such nobles, who thought themselves above the law (if it wouldn't have been completely inappropriate) and none of it was "Goddess bless". But he had always made it very clear that he would not get involved in debates around law reform, that he would not suggest changes (beyond administrative), that he would not become an activist judicial officer. To do so would be to invite censure and possible appeals of all his decisions.

So, his personal views aside (views he knew would have shocked some of the conservative faction, who saw him as "one of them"), he applied the law as it was written (though he wasn't sure it amounted to "justice" _all_ the time) and hoped that, eventually, the more liberal, rational minds at Court would win out and the King and Queen could continue implementing their social and political improvements. With any luck, Squire Keladry was making suggestions for such improvements at that very moment. She seemed like she had a sensible head on her shoulders – and enough righteous anger on behalf of her poor maid to tell the King straight to his face (reflecting on this, the Duke thought it was a shame he wasn't allowed to impose any sort of combat as a punishment – he'd seen the lady Squire joust and he would have loved watching her flatten that miserable excuse for a knight-to-be into the dirt under her lance).

 _Post script_

Sighing, he heard the outer door to his chambers close and looked up in shock. Night had fallen whilst he was fuming and his clerks were going home for the day. None of them had disturbed him all afternoon and he felt a bit guilty – it always took weeks for any clerk to learn that he wasn't actually as grumpy as he seemed from a distance and to stop tip-toeing around him. It would be a shame if his bad mood on this afternoon had scared them off him again – he particularly liked this group of clerks. They had a good sense of humour and occasionally left jokes around the chambers for him to "accidentally" find (they seemed to think they had to keep up _some_ pretence about him being the tough, scary Chief Magistrate and so never openly acknowledged, even amongst themselves, that he had a sense of humour – something else he thought would probably shock the really crusty conservatives if they knew).

Never mind. He would find some way to apologise for his behaviour tomorrow and hope they forgave him. After hanging up his robe properly, he locked the door to his office behind him (as always – so the palace maids wouldn't go in after he left and be horrified by the mess). Just before he left the outer chamber, he noticed a piece of parchment sitting on an otherwise impeccable desk (all his clerks were very neat; he was never sure how they managed it, especially as they all worked hard every day). His Grace picked it up and began to smile. It appeared his clerks had not been terrified into quivering submission by his foul mood and had even procured a joke especially for him.


End file.
